Babies in Waiting (34 page)

Thirty minutes later, and the ambulance still hadn’t arrived. With each contraction, Gemma growled and howled. She couldn’t believe the animal noises that came out of her. Ben was clearly terrified, but he kept close to her, rubbing her back when she let him, and giving her water when she asked for it in between the contractions. She tried standing for a while, but the intensity of the pain drove her back on to her knees. Ben took Gemma’s mobile and rang both her mum and her dad. Both phones
went to voicemail and he left messages, hoping he sounded like it was urgent, but not totally panicked.

Gemma, who had been crouching down with her face close to the floor, suddenly straightened up and stared at Ben, her face streaked with tears. ‘Ben, I need to push. I need to push now. The ambulance isn’t going to get here in time.’

‘I’ll ring them again,’ Ben said, almost crying, reaching for his phone.

‘There isn’t time,’ Gemma sobbed. ‘I need to push now!’

‘Um . . . wait!’ Ben yelled. He was crying too now. ‘Don’t you need to wait for the contraction? Gemma, wait. I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do! What if something goes wrong?’

‘How much more wrong can it go?’

And then, like an answer to a prayer, they heard the front door open.

‘Mummy?’ said Gemma plaintively, and Ben prayed with all his heart it was a paramedic.

‘It’s me,’ said Toni, rushing in and falling awkwardly on her knees next to Gemma. ‘You didn’t answer your phone, so I thought I’d just come over.’ She looked at Gemma’s desperate face and the drenched towels. ‘Oh my God!’

‘It’s coming now, Toni . . . I can’t stop it. It’s coming right now.’

‘Okay,’ said Toni, and her voice seemed deep and calm, and very grown-up to Gemma. ‘Spread your knees, and let’s wait for the next surge.’

‘Surge?’

‘Contraction. In hypnobirthing they say “surge” to separate the muscle action from the idea of pain.’

‘It’s not an idea! It fucking
hurts
! It feels like I’m going to split in two!’

‘Okay,’ said Toni. ‘Take a deep breath, and I want you to breathe out into your bum, with the sur—contraction.’

‘Breathe into her bum?’ said Ben.

‘Shut up,’ growled Gemma, ‘I know what she means.’

And she did. It felt like there was an earthquake in her body, a cataclysmic event so huge that every muscle was straining together. When the contraction built to a peak, she focused all her attention down.

‘I can see her head,’ cried Toni. ‘Keep going!’

‘Should she still be on all fours like that?’ asked Ben, his voice high and scared. ‘Shouldn’t she lie down?’

Both women ignored him. Gemma suddenly let out all her breath in a big whoosh and flopped forward on to her arms.

‘She’s coming out with the next one, lovely. You’re doing amazingly,’ said Toni, patting her on the hip. It seemed to Gemma that she had only taken two or three ragged breaths when she felt the force building again.

She heard Toni’s voice from far, far away, ‘Breathe down!’

Through the hammering in her head, she heard Ben say ‘Oh my God!’ and there was a rushing, tearing agony between her legs, and Toni cried, ‘I’ve got her!’

Gemma toppled over sideways. Ben caught her and laid her down on the pile of towels, and Toni placed a slippery,
bloody little body in her arms. Gemma looked down at her daughter’s beautiful little face. The baby hiccupped and sobbed, and then let out a healthy yell. Gemma couldn’t speak, but a high noise, half-giggle, half-sob escaped her.

‘We need to keep them warm,’ said Toni, and began swaddling Gemma and the baby in towels.

‘There’s so much blood,’ said Ben. ‘It keeps coming out of her.’

Gemma looked between her legs, and there was a massive puddle of blood and gunk. ‘I’m very tired,’ she said faintly.

‘Don’t go to sleep!’ Ben said urgently, but she wasn’t sure why she shouldn’t. She wanted to, so badly. As she closed her eyes, she was vaguely aware that the kitchen was filling with large people in yellow high-visibility vests clattering about. Her mum would be furious about the floor.

I didn’t even notice that I had blood on me, but when I walked in the door at home, James went white. ‘Jesus Christ!’ he said, rushing to me. ‘What happened? Shall I call an ambulance? Are you having contractions?’

‘What? No!’ I said, shocked. ‘I’m fine! Why are you panicking?’

‘I got home and you weren’t here. And look at the state of you!’

I looked down then, and saw that I had Gemma’s blood all down my trousers, and, when I looked in the mirror, there was a smear of something unidentifiable on my cheek too. The taxi driver must have thought I was a right weirdo.

‘It’s not my blood,’ I explained. ‘It’s Gemma’s.’

‘Gemma?’

‘Gemma’s baby was born . . . on the kitchen floor . . . and I delivered it!’

‘You what?’ James took my hand and led me over to the sofa, and, in my usual muddled way, I told him the whole story.

‘I never thought that the first birth I’d see, and the first newborn baby, wouldn’t be ours! But it was amazing. Totally amazing. I can’t wait now, love. I’m so, so excited to do it myself!’

‘You weirdo!’ James laughed. ‘So there was loads of blood and screaming, and Gemma got rushed off to hospital, and you can’t wait to do it?’

‘Ours won’t be like that. Ours will be calm and beautiful. I just know it.’

‘And is Gemma okay? And the baby?’

‘She’s fine. She bled quite a lot, but the paramedics arrived about two minutes after the baby was born, and her mum got there about five minutes after. They took her off to hospital, and they said she might need a transfusion, but she’d be okay. And the baby . . . well, she’s tiny, and perfect and absolutely beautiful. Just like her mum. Ben, the dad was there, and he couldn’t stop crying looking at her.’

James put his arms around me. ‘Well, all I care about is that you’re okay. I’m sure you’re not supposed to be kneeling on kitchen floors delivering babies when you’re thirty-nine weeks pregnant.’

‘I’m fine, honest. It was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had. And Gemma was amazing! It was a freakishly quick labour . . . from her first proper contraction to a baby in her arms, it took just over four hours.’

I was still on a high. I talked and talked about it. I know millions and billions of women have had babies, and if you haven’t had one yourself or been there when one was
born, you’ve seen it in the films. But honest to God, it
is
a miracle. There’s no other way to describe it. One minute there’s this woman straining and pushing, and the next there’s another person in the room. A whole complete, breathing other person. James just let me talk and talk, but after a while, I could see he’d heard enough. I suddenly thought of Louise. I know she and Gemma weren’t speaking, but I’m sure she’d want to know that the baby had been born . . . not that she’d be all that thrilled . . . Gemma was due four weeks after she was.

I grabbed my mobile and dialled her number. It wasn’t till it was ringing that I looked at my watch and realised it was already nearly 10 p.m. A bit late to be ringing someone, especially an overdue pregnant woman who probably wasn’t getting much sleep anyway. I was about to cut off the call when she answered. She must have been really fast asleep, though.

‘Hello,’ she said, ‘Louise’s phone.’ Her voice sounded incredibly gruff and deep.

Then I realised that of course it wasn’t Lou, but a man answering her phone. Why was a man answering her phone?

‘Why is a man answering Louise’s phone?’ I blurted. I really should learn to ask questions properly.

‘This is Brian,’ the voice said. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

‘This is Lou’s friend, Toni. Can I speak to her?’ I didn’t want to spend my time chatting to the faithless husband. And anyway, why the hell did he have her phone? Sometimes I’m really thick, because it should have been perfectly obvious why he had her phone.

‘She can’t talk right now,’ he said.

‘She’s feeding.’ Oh my God, she had the baby? When? How?’

‘About an hour ago. She went into labour this morning. Everything went according to plan, she had the epidural and Peter was born at 9 p.m.’

‘Peter? She’s calling him Peter? How was the labour?’

He sighed. I could hear he didn’t really want to talk to me . . . I’m sure he was a bit wary of speaking to Louise’s friends. Would they know who he was? And want to kill him?

‘The labour was fine, as far as I know. Simon, her brother, was in with her.’

‘And the weight? And what does he look like?’ I thought if I just kept asking questions, he’d have to keep answering. But he cut me off.

‘Look, why don’t you ring back in the morning, and speak to Louise? Or to Simon? They’d be able to tell you more.’

It wasn’t till I’d rung off that it occurred to me that he didn’t sound as thrilled as a man should be who’d given up everything to be there for the birth of his only son.

So Louise had Peter, and Gemma had Baby Girl Hamilton (I didn’t know what her name was, if she had one yet), and I had the biggest belly south of the Thames, and not a single sign of labour. But there was no point in sitting around brooding and paying too much attention to every tiny twinge, so the next day, I went baby gift-shopping, and then went to get acquainted with the two new arrivals.

I went round to Louise’s first. She’d only spent one night in hospital and then taken her baby home. It turned out her new flat was about a ten-minute walk from our house. Brian let me in, muttered hello and disappeared into another room. I found Louise settled on the sofa with baby Peter fast asleep in her arms. Something had changed in her face. She looked softer, somehow. Maybe it was just tiredness. But she gave me her lovely big grin when I came in.

‘Look what you did!’ I said, sitting down beside her. He was a big chap, that was for sure, and there was no doubt he was going to be a fiery red ginger of note.

‘What did he weigh?’

‘Just on nine pounds,’ said Louise proudly.

‘Ouch!’

‘Well, I was lucky and I only had a little tear. It’s a bit sore to sit down, but I didn’t need stitches and they reckon it’ll be all healed up in a week or so.’

‘And the feeding?’

‘Don’t let anyone lie to you. It bloody hurts! But the midwife’s been coming round every day and she tells me it will get easier. We’re getting better at the latching on, and he seems to have the idea, so it’s all good.’

Brian pottered in. ‘Tea, anyone?’ he said.

‘Not for me, thanks,’ said Louise. ‘Although I’d love some more iced water if it’s going. What about you, Toni?’

‘Iced water for me too.’

Brian brought two glasses of water from the kitchen. He put them down and, briefly, gently touched Peter on
the head, then went off to his bedroom again. Well, I didn’t need Louise to tell me there was nothing going on between her and Brian. I’ve never seen two people with less of a spark between them. It wasn’t like they hated each other or anything, they just didn’t seem to really . . . see each other at all, if you know what I mean.

‘So how’s he been?’ I whispered.

‘Who, Brian? Okay, I suppose. He’s had two kids so he’s better at things like nappies and bathing than I am. But I don’t know . . . his heart doesn’t really seem to be in it. I mean, he’s gentle with Peter and everything, but I’m so totally head over heels in love with my baby and he seems . . . I don’t know. Not so excited.’

‘Well, this is his third time.’

‘I know. And the circumstances are not really ideal. But still. My brother Simon was amazing at the birth . . . really supportive and calm, and then when Peter came out, he just sobbed and sobbed, and sat holding him and gazing at him for absolute ages. And he’s only an uncle. Brian’s the dad and he doesn’t act like that at all.’

‘Maybe it’s hard for Brian to bond because he wasn’t there at the birth.’

‘I don’t think he saw his other two born either. Still, I shouldn’t complain. He’s been very helpful.’

‘Helpful’ sounded like . . . what was that expression my dad always used . . . damning with faint praise? I didn’t say so, though.

Peter picked that moment to open his eyes and make the sweetest little snuffling noise. His eyes were unfocused,
but they were the most amazing navy blue. He yawned and spread his little starfish hands and gazed up at his mum, and I swear, I thought Louise would just burst with pride. ‘Are you hungry, little egg?’ she said softly, and went through a whole rigmarole of hoiking out a boob, laying Peter on her special support cushion, lining him up and getting the nipple in his mouth. It took quite a few goes, and when he started sucking, she jumped and breathed in sharply.

‘Bloody hell. I have such admiration for the mums I’ve seen breastfeeding who just sling the baby into their laps and plug them on . . . it’s such a mission for Peter and me. Still, we’re doing it ten times a day . . . practice must make perfect, I suppose!’

Now he was latched on, Peter looked like he was going to be on there for quite a while, and Louise’s whole attention was focused on him. I finished my water, had a wee, called a quiet goodbye to Brian and let myself out.

I went round to see Gemma the next afternoon. She was settled in her lovely girly bedroom in the big Hamilton house, with the baby in a Moses basket next to the bed. Now she was cleaned up, the little girl was even more beautiful than she had been when I saw her born. She looked absolutely tiny compared to great bonny Peter, although considering she was three weeks early, she’d been a reasonable weight: six pounds, eight ounces. Gemma still looked pale and a bit peaky, but she seemed rested and cheerful.

‘My mum and dad have paid for a night nurse for the first ten days or so. She has Millie in her room and she does all the night feeds so I can sleep.’

‘Millie? Is that her name?’

‘Well, I call her Millie, but she’s really Emilia. Um . . . if it’s okay with you, Emilia Antonia.’

I got all teary at this, not really a big surprise. I’ve never had anyone name a baby after me before (although I did have a boyfriend in junior school who called his goldfish Toni). ‘That’s fine with me,’ I managed to say. ‘Emilia Antonia Hamilton? She’s destined to marry an earl at the very least, with that name.’